


Vengeance and Furious Anger

by twistedrunes



Series: George [5]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Sexual Abuse, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Victor Konstantin, tied in a chair, hands bound, cowers before Alfie, as he stands above him, arms crossed over his chest glaring. You lean casually against the large wooden timber table at Alfies back. A group of Alfie’s men stand in a semi-circle around Victor. You can see why Alfie has his reputation now, he is truly menacing just standing still, and you can feel the power emanating from him. No hint of the kind and gentle man you have known over the past few days. He seems a good two or three inches taller, back broader, you can feel his masculinity washing over you.The warehouse is nearly silent, only the murmurs from the bakery and the laboured breathing of your prisoner disturbing the quiet of the early morning. Ollie’s boots tap out an even cadence across the warehouse floor, he appears and disappears as he passes under the overhead lighting.





	Vengeance and Furious Anger

Over the next few days, you and Alfie spend a surprising amount of time together. You go with and sit in on meetings about the deal. You have to admit you get a little rush when he introduces you as his associate. The pair of you finds a number of parallels between appraising weapons and jewellery. You’ve borrowed Alfie’s jeweller’s loupe so many times during the first day, Alfie sent Ollie to buy you one of your own. Much to your surprise, you actually enjoy his company. While you know you should be terrified, or at the very least wary, of him you actually think he’s lovely. Not at all like Tommy.

\---------------

“Yeah well, Victor’s alive,” Alfie says coming into the small workspace Ollie has found for you, scratching at an irritation under his collarbone.

“Fuck.” You reply, tossing your chisel on the table.  

“Seems he’s up to his old tricks,” Alfie says, picking up your discarded chisel and running his thumb along the blade.  You raise your eyebrows questioningly. “I hear he and one or two of his friends visit one of his punter’s homes regularly. The man has two daughters.”

“How old?”

“The eldest is fifteen, the younger is eleven or twelve.” Alfie uses the edge of the chisel to scratch in his beard.

“He needs to fucking die.” You spit.

“Done,” Alfie says clapping his hands together.

“No.” 

“You don’t want him dead?” Alfie’s brow furrows.

“I do want him dead. I don’t want you to do it.” 

“Well, you’ll not be having Tommy’s boys coming up on my patch and starting trouble with Sabini. Yeah?” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking down on you gravely.

“No. I don’t want them to do it either.” You reply “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll fucking what now?”

“I’ll kill him.”

“I heard ya the fucking first time yeah? Still one of Tommy’s boys coming up here to kill one of Sabini’s innit.” Alfie reminds you.

“What if it’s not one of Tommy’s boys, but one of poor Anna’s long lost relations?” You suggest. A small smile starts to form in the corner of Alfie’s mouth. “Her Aunt perhaps?” You go on. Alfie’s smile fully develops and he rubs his hand against his chin.

“Sabini?” Alfie reminds you.

“I think we can make Sabini look the other way.”

Alfie looks at you and places his hand on your shoulder, “Let’s go to my office.” 

\---------------

Two days later you as pack the last of the latest shipment of rifles into their crates Ollie appears in your doorway “Mr Solomons’ says I’m to take you home.”

At the guest house, Ollie removes a large box from the boot and follows you inside.  Inside he opens the box, revealing a beautifully embroidered teal dress, black coat and heels. “Alfie says you’re to get ready, he’s taking you to meet a friend. I’ll be back in an hour” he says, pushing the box out towards you.

Ollie arrives exactly an hour later and Alfie comes to the door himself. You smooth your hands over the dress feeling the curves of your body. It feels very odd after wearing men’s clothes for so long. You smile at yourself in the mirror. Alfie has excellent taste; including the beautiful black, silk and lace negligee, you had found in the bottom of the box. You quickly touch up your lipstick. Make-up and perfume were other details Alfie had not forgotten. When you meet in the hall, Alfie rummages through a velvet jewellery bag and adorns you with a pearl necklace, sapphire earrings, silver and diamond bracelets, with matching rings.  

Alfie takes your arm and opens the door for you. You climb up into the car, saying hello to Ollie as you get settled. You don’t miss Ollie looking you over in the rear-vision mirror. Alfie, gaze ostensively out the window, keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eye, constantly fiddling with his hat, beard or beads. “Alfie what the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask.

“Well, ya see, I’d only imagined like, what you look like as a woman yeah?” He stumbles over his words, glaring out the window.

“And?” you ask, enjoying his discomfort.

“Well, ya beautiful aren’t ya? Not you’d eva’ know it under those old suits of Tommy’s.” Alfie snaps.

You feel a little pang in your heart and slide across the seat “Thank you, Alfie. You look lovely too.” You smooth your hand over his chest, before giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Yeah, well you don’t want to be starting that sort of carry on now, do ya?” He grumps.

“Well, I did think it would make more sense if people thought we were on a date,” you reply, looking up at him from under your eyelashes.

Suddenly finding his confidence again Alfie wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses his lips to your forehead “So just to confirm, ya askin’ me to flirt with ya right?”

You laugh, enjoying the feel of his body pressed up against yours “Yes Alfie. I’m asking you to flirt with me.” You confirm. The feel of Alfie’s laugh rumbling in his chest helps to soothe your anxiety as you approach Sabini’s.

\---------------

Alfie places his hand in the small of your back as he guides you through the doors of the nightclub. The doorman nods in acknowledgement of Alfie’s presence, ogling you openly. Alfie taps him in the stomach with his cane, growling at him, the man looks away instantly. Alfie continues to guide you through the room, the putrid smell of stale alcohol and sweat filling your nose, it reminds you of your father. Alfie pulls back your chair and you sink into it. He sits next to you pulling his chair up close to you. He places his hand on the hip furthest from him and pulls you towards him, a worried look in his eye. “What should I call you?” He hisses. You look at him confused. “I can’t be calling ya George.” He looks you up and down pointedly “And I can’t call ya Anna, it’ll give the game away.” He points out.

“My mother used to call me Nava.” You suggest

“Beautiful.” Alfie nods “Perfect.”

Alfie flirts outrageously with you. Holding your hand and whispering dirty jokes in your ear. Feathering kissing across your naked shoulders. Hands rubbing your hip, shoulder, neck, pretty much anywhere he thinks he can get away with it. You moan a little when he nips at your neck, well aware that you are not acting. The waiter to your left clears his throat, temporarily halting Alfie’s investigation of the sensitive skin just below your ear. He lifts his head just enough to prevent his words from being muffled. “The lady and I will both have a whiskey and please tell Mr Sabini that I'd like a word.”

Your leg begins to bounce as your agitation builds. Alfie places his hand on your thigh, pushing down gently. His fingers caressing the inside of your knee tenderly. He leans in close to you, his lips grazing your ear “Calm down love.”

You turn to him, you hand fondling his cheek “I feel fucking naked.” You whisper.

Alfie raises his eyebrows, smiling broadly “Miss ya pants do ya?” He teases, plucking at the fabric of your dress under the table. Fingers sliding further up your thigh.

You smile at him, and press your mouth to his ear “No, I miss my fucking gun.” You had realised too late at the guest house that your holster would not be concealed by your coat and you didn’t have a gun small enough to fit in your purse.

Alfie throws his head back, a huge genuine laugh erupting from his chest, your body being shaken along with his. People around you turn to look, you duck your head to avoid their gaze but Alfie just ignores them, pulling you closer. He presses his lips to your neck. You shiver as whiskers dance over your skin as he speaks, voice still full of gentle laughter “And there was I thinking you’d gone all soft and ladylike.”

Your head drops to the side allowing Alfie greater access to your neck “Oh, I don’t think there’s much chance of that tonight Alfie.” You murmur as he hungrily accepts your invitation, groaning into your skin.

Alfie again places a guiding hand on your back as you weave your way through the tables to Sabini’s office. “Alfie.” Sabini rises from his chair hand outstretched towards him. Sabini’s eyes slide across to you, unashamedly devouring you, barely making eye contact before returning to the flesh peeking from the neckline of your dress. You feel the tension in Alfie’s hand pouring into you “And who is this, woman, you bring to my office a place for business?” Sabini rebukes Alfie.

“Well, business is why we’re here, right?” Alfie’s face hardens.

“Perhaps I can explain Mr Sabini,” you interrupt sweetly, holding your hand out towards him. “Nava Graber.”

Sabini takes your hand in his and turns it, raising it to his mouth, kissing the back of your fingers. “Mrs Graber.” Sabini fawned, indicating the chair behind you.

You perch on the edge of the chair, ankles crossed and tucked under you, hands folded in your lap shoulders back and together lifting your breasts nicely. “Thank you, Mr Sabini. Please excuse my presumption of asking Mr Solomons to facilitate this meeting” You nod demurely in Alfie’s direction. “You see, busy men such as yourself, often have little time for the trifles of women.” You lay your hand on Sabini’s desk, fingers floating near his.

“And what, trifle, is it that you need that Alfie cannot provide?” Sabini mocks.

You smile coyly as if congratulating him on his barb towards Alfie. “I’m here about my niece.” You begin.

“Well if she wants to work for me she can audition like all the others, although” he licks his lips “if she has inherited any of your assets I’m sure she’ll have no problem.” He sneers.

You duck your head, playing again at subservience and innocence. “No, Mr Sabini, unfortunately, my request doesn’t involve her directly.” Sabini nods for you to continue. You look down at your hands, “I have come here in hope of reuniting with her. My brother and I are estranged and with the troubles in Europe I’m ashamed to say I lost contact with her.” You paused and nod towards Alfie “Mr Solomons, an old friend of my family, has kindly acted on my behalf in enquiring after her. It seems my brother, a degenerate gambler and drunkard, was not able to meet his obligations and in an attempt to save himself he gave my dear sweet niece in payment.”   

Sabini muttered under his breath, a curse for sure but against whom you couldn’t determine. He watches you closely, eyes examining your face more shrewdly, he leans forwards resting his arms on his desk, fingers entwined in front of him. “This is indeed a sad story, but how is it you think I can help?”

You slide forward in your chair until you are perched perilously on the edge of your seat and lay your hand over Sabini’s. “Mr Solomons tells me the man I’m seeking is known to be an associate of yours” you pause ensuring you have his complete attention “and is seated in this very nightclub this evening.” Sabini’s eyes flick to the window overlooking the club nervously.

“Who?” he asks carefully.

“Victor Konstantin.” Alfie relaxed back in his chair replies placidly.

Sabini’s eyes snapped to him as if he had forgotten Alfie was even in the room. “Filthy Russians” he spits. “Nothing to do with me.”

You turn to Alfie, “See Alfie” you pat the back of his hand lightly “just as you said, nothing to do with Mr Sabini, unsavoury business like this.” Your voice light and flirtatious. Alfie simply nods in silent agreement.

“So we are agreed I’m not involved in these, unfortunate events,” Sabini says standing.

“Of course” you look up at him through the veil of your eyelashes. “However, I do need to speak to him. Somewhere private so I can find out where my sweet niece is.” The smile falls from Sabini’s mouth. “Now, of course, I, we,” you nod again to Alfie “don’t want to create any sort of scene.” You allow your words to hang in the air.

Sabini sits down hard “What is it you want?” he drops any further pretence.  

You drop your voice, all warmth leaving it “Victor Konstantin, at Alfie’s bakery by midnight tonight.”

“And?” Sabini’s voice was equally hard.

“And,” you continue, allowing your voice to lighten again “when he answers my questions, I will collect my niece and go home.” You brush your palms against one-and-other “The end.”

“And if your niece is dead?” Sabini asks voice strained.

“Then he will pay the price. That will be the end of it and I will go home, to grieve.” 

 Sabini, looks at you and Alfie, obviously weighing his options. As you suspect continued good relations with Alfie wins out. He nods.

\---------------

Victor Konstantin, tied in a chair, hands bound, cowers before Alfie, as he stands above him, arms crossed over his chest glaring. You lean casually against the large wooden timber table at Alfies back. A group of Alfie’s men stand in a semi-circle around Victor. You can see why Alfie has his reputation now, he is truly menacing just standing still, and you can feel the power emanating from him. No hint of the kind and gentle man you have known over the past few days. He seems a good two or three inches taller, back broader, you can feel his masculinity washing over you. 

The warehouse is nearly silent, only the murmurs from the bakery and the laboured breathing of your prisoner disturbing the quiet of the early morning. Ollie’s boots tap out an even cadence across the warehouse floor, he appears and disappears as he passes under the overhead lighting. He’s carrying a large leather case much like a bookies bag, except you know, as do the men watching, that there is no money in that bag and the contents, in the right hands are a much more valuable commodity. Alfie doesn’t even twitch when Ollie begins removing the contents of the bag onto the table, heavy metal implements thudding ominously against the timber. You smile as you watch Victor’s eyes grow wider. Finished now, Ollie places the bag under the table.

Alfie finally moves, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder “Tell me about the gunsmith’s daughter.” He says quietly.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Victor replies defiantly. Alfie has him by the throat in a moment, literally lifting him and the chair from the floor. The man’s eyes bulge as he gasps for breath. You can see him on the edge of losing consciousness.

“Alfie,” you say in low tones “remember we agreed you wouldn’t hurt him.”

Alfie looks over his shoulder at you, veins in his forearm popping as he holds Victor off the ground. He smiles broadly at you and releases the man, the chair clattering back to the floor. “Yes love, yes we did.” He replies with a nod.

Victor’s face curls into a snarl “Fucking Alfie Solomons whipped by a woman.”

Alfie bends at the waist, hands on his knees, peering into Victors face. Victor laughs coldly, Alfie straightens, fingers scratching through his beard, before smacking Victor across the face with the back of his hand, his rings gouging flesh from his cheek. He looks at you, winking, as cocky as a young man on his way out of the whorehouse “Sorry, love. Slipped.”

You can’t help but smile slightly at his not so innocent indiscretion.

Victor spits blood on the floor. “The stupid little bitch is dead.” He says looking at you coldly. Alfie stands in front of him, a smile plastered across his face. His arms folded again against his broad chest, the blood from his rings staining his shirt. You stand up straight and carefully remove each piece of the beautiful jewellery Alfie has lent you, placing them on the table. You move to stand next to Alfie. Victor’s eyes flick between you and Alfie. Alfie leans back against the table, crossing his heels and holding his hand out in front of him picking skin out of his ring. “Fucking hell Alfie what are you playing at? What do you care about some bitch long dead?” Victor cries.

Alfie raises his eyes to the man, “I don’t.” he shrugs and returns his attention to his hands “But she does.” He says without looking up.

“And who the fuck are you? That little whore had no one who gave a shit about her. Not a soul in the world gave a fuck if she lived or died.”

“Ah, Victor such a sweet talker.” You say quietly, placing your hand lightly on his shoulder as you walk to stand behind him. Your hand sliding up his neck and jaw before settling on his forehead. You pull his head back, so he is forced to look at you. You smile down at him, your free hand opening up the bone handled razor you had taken from the table. “I’ve heard a lot about your Victor.” You say calmly loudly enough for all those present to hear. “I hear you’re very sweet. Always telling your young lady friends to smile.” You look back down on Victor, your hand slipping to hold his chin. “That’s right isn’t it sweetie? Always smile, smile, smile.” You screw your face up smiling at him.

“Would you smile for me?” You ask.

Victor looks up at you “Fuck off you dumb bitch.”

You tap the flat of the blade against the corner of his mouth “Oh come on sweetie, just a little smile for me.” You insist. Victor doesn’t smile. You frown and move in front of him. “Smile?” You ask again leaning in and pushing the corners of his mouth up with your fingers. “Now that wasn’t that hard was it?” You ask mockingly.

Victor spits at you. You run the blade from the corner of his mouth to his ear. “Fucking Cunt!” He squeals.  Ollie appears beside you with a small towel. You accept it and wipe the spittle off your face. You hand it back to Ollie with a small nod. You grasp Victors cut cheek as if squeezing the cheeks of a chubby baby. Victor’s head jerks trying to free himself from your grasp. You squeeze tighter stretching the flesh away from his face. “Whore!” Victor shouts. You swiftly run the blade up the other side of his face, mirroring your first stroke. Victor shrieks.

“Now look at that beautiful smile. Isn’t he so much prettier when he smiles?” You ask the assembled men. You turn your back on Victor and place the knife back on the table. You select the snub-nosed shotgun Tommy had gifted Alfie “This is a pretty little thing isn’t it?” You ask no one in particular “Only one of it’s kind. A rare and precious thing.” You comment absently returning to Victor. 

You stop in front of him, hanging your head to the side “You like pretty little things don’t you Victor?” You smile coldly.

You take the final step towards him, parting your legs so you are standing either side of his thighs. You look down on him, before hitching your dress up to the tops of your thighs. You lower yourself onto his lap, draping your arms over his shoulders. Alfie’s gun dangles from your fingers, bumping against Victor’s back. “That’s why you liked my niece, wasn’t it? And those two other girls you're friends with now?” You roll your hips against him, moving slowly, holding his gaze as you lift and press against him. You can feel him growing underneath you. Victor begins to groan and push back. Your fingers quickly unbuckle his belt, tugging it through the loops. You drop it beside the chair. Victor smirks at you.

You wink at him, “You were my nieces first Victor. Did you know that?”  You ask. 

Victor leers at you. “Such a tight cunt.” he slurs.

You pull your head back, slamming your forehead against the bridge of his nose. Blood sprays down your chest and into your lap. His head drops forward as he passes out. You stand, picking the belt from the floor. You slip it around his neck and pull it tight. Victor is still unconscious doesn’t respond and you roll your eyes and turn your back on him. “Ollie.” You instruct waving your hand over your shoulder. Ollie looks to Alfie. Alfie nods and Ollie quickly waves smelling salts under Victor’s nose. He comes to, roaring in anger. You pull hard on the belt cutting him off.

“Do you remember the game you used to play with my niece? The one after she would smile for you?” Victor’s eyes widen. You clap your hands playfully, “You do remember!” You push the muzzle of the gun against Victor’s lips. He closes his teeth firmly behind his lips. “Now, now, Victor” you chastise “You remember the rules.” You feel Victor’s jaw push back against the muzzle of the gun. You shrug “I guess you did forget.” You say spinning the gun in your hand and raising your arm high above your head, before smashing the butt of the gun into his cheek. “No teeth.” You say simply as blood, spittle, bone and teeth explode from between his lips. The spray stipples you in a mist of bodily fluids.  Victor screams in agony, back arched, head rolling back. You grab the hair on top of his head in your free hand and push the muzzle back against his mouth. Blood and drool spill over the barrel, but he keeps his mouth closed. “Open your mouth, Victor.” You instruct calmly.

Victor tries to speak but without opening his mouth so it comes out as “Ugh U”.

“Open your mouth, Victor.” You say again, tone not changing. You tighten the belt around his neck. He still resists. You sigh and transferring the gun to the other hand, muzzle in your palm you raise it again, bringing the grip smashing into the other side of his face. Again, you are sprayed with bodily fluids.

“Open your mouth, Victor.” You instruct, voice harder. Victor shakes his head, strands of blood waving around his mouth like the spittle of a large dog. You shrug and stepping back, press the gun against his crotch, feeling his hardness push back against it. You pull the trigger. Again blood and flesh splatter against you, your entire body now gilded in blood. This time Victors scream echoes off the walls, he falls backwards as he writhes in pain. Blood spurts from his crotch. He lies on the floor head to the side, eyes rolling back in his head, mouth hanging open as he takes shallow gasps.  

You squat down next to him, feet and knees held together tightly, your butt nearly touching the floor. “Good boy.” You whisper as you push the barrel into his mouth, its girth causing the corners of his mouth to tear further. You keep pushing until you feel it hit the back of his throat. He starts to gag. You pat his cheek “Just relax baby, breath through your nose.” You push the gun further back. His eyes widen in panic as he realises he can’t breathe. He gurgles something unintelligible terror filling his eyes. You pull the gun out a little, allowing a short gasp of air to enter his lungs before shoving it back in again.

Again Victor tries to speak a collection of guttural noises coming from him.  You shake your head and look around at the assembled men. “Did anyone understand that?” You ask lightly. “Anyone, don’t be shy.”

Alfie lifts his head from the examination of his fingernails “I think he’s asking you to stop love.” He replies offhandedly.

“Don’t be silly Alfie. Look at him, he’s enjoying himself. He’s smiling.” You smile, caressing Victor’s face with your hand. He moans desperately “It just feels so good doesn’t it Victor.” You start sliding barrel in and out of Victor’s mouth, quickening your pace as he whimpers. “I could just explode in your pretty little mouth Victor.” You throw your head back, moaning, as you pull the gun from his mouth just before firing.  Victor screams, thrashing in terror.

“Fuck.” You hear one of the assembled men whisper as you stand, holding the gun limply at your side. Alfie’s eyes glare at the assembly. Ollie meets your gaze, face questioning. You nod and he picks Victor up from the floor. Victor hangs limply, shirt sodden with blood and plastered to his skin. Top of his head burnt from the gun blast. Blood pouring from his lap and pooling around his feet.

You put the gun down on the table next to Alfie. His eyes search your face, you meet his gaze. He uses his thumb to wipe a piece of gore from your cheek. You turn back to Victor. Squatting down in front of him, your hands on his knees. Blood, drool and snot drip from his face. You run your hands up his thighs, pushing his knees apart. The movement causing an anguished intake of breath on his part.

Your hand reaches his crotch and you dip your fingers into the bloody mess. Victor sobs as you push your fingers into him. Blood pours out as you open the wound further splashing on the ground between you. “Shush,” you whisper. “Look how wet you are for me,” you raise your hand up for him to see the scarlet coating your arm. “Here, taste yourself.” You smear the blood across his lips. Victor breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably.

You stand pulling his head to you, pressing the side of his face to your stomach. Smoothing his hair with your blood soaked hand and cooing softly, “There, there, don’t cry.” His shoulders shake, as sobs wracking his entire body. You watch the men surrounding you look away as you hold him tenderly. His breathing starts to come in short gasps, his body shaking violently “It’s okay, it’s nearly over now.” You say soothingly.

You release him, returning to stand in front of him, pushing his head back so he is looking at you. It lolls uncontrollably. “You did an evil thing, taking those girls as payment for their father’s debts didn’t you?” Victor nods, sobbing again. “You know it had to be like this, don’t you? I could have just shot you as you walked down the street, but you needed to be punished. You needed to be hurt and scared like those little girls.” Victor’s chest begins to rattle, his eyes widening. “I had to make sure this would never happen again.” You say lifting your eyes to the men assembled.  

Victor slumps. Complete silence falls. You turn, walking away, with only the click of your heels against the cobblestones for company.


End file.
